


The Couch Experiment

by 221brosiewilde



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 10:00:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2424542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221brosiewilde/pseuds/221brosiewilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fill for kink prompt: Sherlock sleepily nuzzling onto John's lap, which turns into Sherlock sucking off John. I'm sorry jesus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Couch Experiment

As far as days with Sherlock go, today is quiet. Though John knows that probably has to do with the fact that Sherlock was just coming off a week with the flu, a quiet day is a quiet day. And in 221B, quiet days are rare. 

Sherlock wanders over to the living room where John is watching the latest Doctor Who episode, and stares at him blearily. His symptoms have mostly abated by now. His fever had finally broken that morning, but John still ordered him on strict bed rest for the rest of the day. 

John glances at him. “Everything alright?”

Sherlock nods and sits next to John. “Tired.” He looks at him, speculating for a moment. Then-

“You’re just going to- Okay,” John says. Sherlock plops his head in John’s lap, a mess of curls and hot breath, and John knows that shouldn’t be as arousing as it is, but it’s Sherlock’s  face  in his  crotch  and-

“Yes,” Sherlock says, voice muffled. “Tired. I thought I explained that.”

John sighs. His hand hovers awkwardly above Sherlock’s hair, unsure whether or not he should stroke him or run his fingers through it, or just keep still. Sherlock’s always been picky with the level of affection he receives, and though John would really not like to be snapped at right now, the doctor in him is telling him to comfort. 

So he does. Because fuck it. 

He pushes his hand through Sherlock’s hair and scratches lightly at his scalp. His hair is thick and soft, just as he expected it to be. It’s comforting to know that there are parts of Sherlock that aren’t complete enigmas, that are exactly human. John smiles to himself.  

Sherlock makes a quiet sound against him. John almost expects him to sit up and tell him off for being so touchy, but he doesn’t. He tilts his head to the side a bit, leaning into John’s hand, silently granting permission. Or asking for more. John isn’t really sure.

He acquiesces though. There’s no point in stopping now anyway, and it’s not like moving his fingers through Sherlock’s hair is a hardship. He laughs at the thought and Sherlock tenses. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” John says. “I’ve just never seen you so, I dunno…cuddly before. It’s nice.”

“I can be cuddly,” Sherlock says, petulant. His shoulders relax again. He butts his head against John’s hand, and his chin brushes against John’s cock. 

This time, John’s the one who goes tense. 

“Is there, is-” John stops himself mid-stutter and clears his throat. He needs to get up now, before Sherlock realizes what he’s doing to him. There are certain things he doesn’t mind explaining to Sherlock, but the fact that he gets hard from just one touch from the man, is something that might take a little more thought. 

He starts to move away. 

Sherlock’s hand grips his knee. “No.”

John stills. “No?”

Sherlock looks up at him, eyes still a little fever bright, but no less piercing. Damn him. “No,” he repeats. He lessens the pressure on John’s knee. “Stay here. I want to try something.”

John pauses with his hand on the arm of the couch. He thinks. On the one hand, the last time Sherlock said he wanted to try something, it had taken almost three weeks for their eyebrows to grow back. 

On the other hand, possible blowjob. 

John stays. 

“Okay,” he says, settling back down. “What kind of something?”

Sherlock studies him for a moment, then slowly turns his head to the inside of John’s thigh. He breathes him in and John exhales shakily. That should not be as arousing as he thinks it is. 

“Sherlock-” he tries.

“Shush.” Sherlock spreads his hands over John’s thighs. He looks up at John and moves his mouth towards the zipper of his trousers. He takes the metal between his teeth and pulls down. His fingers come up and undo the snap of his jeans and then pulls them down. 

Definitely blowjobs then.

Sherlock pauses. 

“Is this okay?” he asks. He sounds breathless even though they’ve barely done anything. John notices for the first time that his cheeks are flushed, something he rarely sees outside of running after a criminal, and it’s oddly endearing. 

John nods. “It’s fine,” he says, appreciating the moment of calm. “Do what you want.”

Sherlock smirks and leans in again. He shifts a little on the couch to get a better angle, then opens his mouth and runs his tongue over the front of John’s pants, over the outline of his cock. 

The moan pulls its way out of John’s throat before he realizes it and his hand tightens in Sherlock’s hair. Sherlock tenses briefly, then goes lax against John and that’s...interesting. 

John shifts a little to get more comfortable and scratches his nails against Sherlock’s scalp. This time Sherlock moans and,  god  that voice. Sherlock’s always had a great voice, or at least John’s always thought so. It’s nice and deep and it sounds even better around a moan. He wonders how it’ll sound around his cock. 

He’s so caught up in thinking about the sound of Sherlock’s voice that he doesn’t realize Sherlock has his pants halfway down his thighs until he grunts in frustration. 

“You could at least help me a little,” he says, glaring up at John. There’s none of his usual malice though and John swears there might even be a hint of amusement. The whole situation is pretty ridiculous after all.

“Right.” John nods. He lifts his thighs off the couch and pushes his pants down to the floor along with his trousers. “Better?”

Sherlock ignores him. He’s looking at John’s cock hungrily. As John watches, he runs his thumb over the vein lining the underside and follows it up to the head. He slides his thumb against the bead of precome already leaking from the tip and smooths it down the length. 

It’s a light touch, but it’s the first time Sherlock’s ever touched him and John thinks his head might actually explode from it. He can’t imagine what Sherlock’s mouth will feel like. 

Sherlock glances up at him and, at the same time, wraps his hand around John’s cock. He strokes him slowly from base to tip. John can feel every inch of Sherlock’s hand slide over him and he bites his lip to hold back the sound that wants to come out. 

“God,” he breathes. “I thought you said you were tired.”

One side of Sherlock’s lips tilt up in a smirk and he strokes him again, just as agonizingly slow as the first time. “I was.”

“If this is you tired then I’d love to see you - fuck!”

Sherlock flicks his tongue over the head of John’s cock again. “You’d love to see me fuck?” He turns his head and runs the flat of his tongue along the length of John’s cock. “I’m sure that can be arranged.”

John closes his eyes and tilts his head back against the couch. If he looks at Sherlock anymore this will be over embarrassingly soon and he’d rather not have their first sexual encounter end with him coming all over his pants after barely being touched. 

He feels Sherlock’s breath, hot and wet, hover over him for a second. Then, finally, the warm slide of his mouth as he takes him inside. 

John moans. He clenches his hand in Sherlock’s hair and tries not to push up. It’s a struggle. He can imagine the sounds Sherlock would make as he fucked his throat; can imagine how his eyes would water, how his voice would sound afterwards - rough and completely wrecked. 

But he manages to keep still. There’s something extremely satisfying about letting Sherlock take his time and do what he wants. He can feel the pleasure building, feels the slow burn work through his body, and knowing that it’s Sherlock’s mouth that’s doing it is the best part.

Sherlock’s nails dig into John’s thigh, bringing him back to the present, and John opens his eyes. He looks down at Sherlock who is… John nearly closes his eyes again.

Sherlock is watching John as he takes him apart bit by bit. It’s a heady feeling having the full power of Sherlock’s gaze on him, especially when his lips are stretched around his cock so obscenely. He moves down until his mouth is around the base of John’s cock and then slides back up. 

“Oh god,” John gasps. Dimy, he wonders where the  hell Sherlock learned that, but then Sherlock does it again and coherent thoughts fly out of the realm of possibility. 

Sherlock hums around his cock, sounding vaguely amused, and the vibrations are enough to pull John right to the edge. 

“Sherlock,” he pants. He digs his nails into Sherlock’s scalp. His hips twitch in warning. He expects Sherlock to gag, but he takes it in stride and oh  god , that’s the back of his throat isn’t it. “I’m...god, I’m-”

Sherlock pulls back. He wraps his hand around the base of John’s cock, stroking, and swirls his tongue around the head. 

It’s the last push John needs. His vision whites out at the edges and his world narrows down to Sherlock’s mouth on his cock, practically sucking the orgasm out of him. 

He comes back to the present to Sherlock tucking him back into his trousers. He lays his head back down on John’s thigh and turns to the television. Doctor Who is still on. The Daleks are doing something horrible and the Doctor looks angry. Normally it’s the kind of thing John would be mad he missed, but he can’t be bothered with ridiculous extraterrestrial problems right now. 

“I think,” he says, slowly. He’s still trying to sort everything out and he’s notoriously bad at words right after orgasm. “I think you just gave me head.”

“Yes.” Sherlock lets out a pleased hum and John can see the smug smile on his face. “Very astute of you, John.” He pulls John’s arm around him and settles more firmly against him. His skin feels fever warm again, but John has a feeling this time it doesn’t have to do with the flu. 

He strokes his hand over Sherlock’s face. Soon, the panic is going to set in and things are probably going to be awkward. They’re definitely going to have to have a conversation about this. 

He opens his mouth. “So what-”

“Shh.” Sherlock is looking pointedly at the television and - damn him - he still looks entirely too pleased with himself. He nods to the television. “Daleks, John.”

They’re definitely having a conversation about this. 

Later. 


End file.
